His white teeth had obviously been straightened, but he didn’t have the telltale upper lip curve of someone who once had a pronounced overbite. As he shifted in his seat, his thin khaki shorts would ride up, showing the thickening patches of leg hair on the insides of his thigh as it neared his crotch. Gay sex Nothing. It was soothing, comforting. His eyes were a muddy blue-green, rimmed with thick dark lashes; his eyebrows perfectly shaped and neither thin nor bushy. To the friend’s hand moving other places, stroking other things. He had the boyish good looks of someone with great genes who was aging well as he entered his early thirties. Washing his hands, the water splashed out of the tiny sink, wetting his shorts. Evenings were spent catching up with college friends. An assumption he quickly corrected. To the friend’s hand moving other places, stroking other things. Like him, most were now married, ascendant in their careers, starting families. From buzzy exuberance and tongue-tripping enthusiasm, they slid toward quiet, slowness, nuance. Now he could finally pee.
